


Linger

by islande



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Ghosts, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 19:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3261932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islande/pseuds/islande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Estonia sees ghosts from his past. They linger in the corner of his eyes, always watching. People who cared for him, people he cared for in return. Even strangers—men, women, and children whom he had never seen while they lived—appear before him. But Norway cares for him now, and Estonia is glad to care for him for as long as he will accept it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Linger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Icelilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icelilly/gifts).



> heyo this is my first time writing estonia ever and norest in general and it's my first time writing norway in canonverse and also this was a fic for scarlettlillies on tumblr

“Who’s here now?”

It’s a simple question, yet it pierces the thick air surrounding him. Estonia wipes the lens of his glasses.

“Garlieb Merkel.”

Norway nods and looks over to the area Estonia has been focusing on for the past few minutes. He strains his eyes; tries to command them to see those who roam on separate planes of existence, but his efforts are in vain. He sighs and leans back in his chair, picking up his book again.

“Last time it was Alliksaar, was it not?”

“It was,” Estonia answers coolly, not missing a beat, “it was quite nice to see him. I’ve always admired him. He was a brilliant poet, it was a shame to see him go.”

Norway hums in agreement. “We all must watch great minds vanish from the world. It’s always been that way, and it always will be.”

Estonia nods.

“I suppose you’re right.”

* * *

 

It’s only late at night, in the privacy of their bedroom that Estonia’s armor cracks. He tenses and shivers, hoping that tonight, he will be left alone, left to sleep by his lover without an unwelcome guest hovering in the corner of the room. They are never hostile, but they leave a wake of sorrow when they walk, oh, the burden of watching a world in which they cannot interfere. Estonia’s attention is pulled to movement in the far side of the room.

A child, thin and pale, staggers across the room. It’s a ghastly sight to behold; her frail legs struggle to support her body, and it’s like her walking is a balancing act, a dangerous task that she must endure. Her nightgown, torn and dirty, drags along the floor. Her hair obscures his face, but Estonia already knows what lies beyond the layer of dirt and oil. He’s seen it many times before, both in the streets of his nation and in the translucent souls that walk before him.

He tenses and waits for the child to complete her journey across the room, waits for her to reach a light that not even he can see, that may not even be there. Norway stirs and Estonia knows he’s woken up. Long, lean arms wrap around him from beside him and pull him in, and Estonia hears a heartbeat, feels the muscle beat systematically. He sighs, and Norway holds him there in silence, comforting him as he has for so long. It is not until morning that Estonia is able to pull himself together.

* * *

 

Norway looks up at Estonia from his morning coffee, and lazily pushes a mug across the table to him. He nods gratefully and takes it, bringing the mug to his chapped lips and sipping the drink slowly, careful not to burn his tongue. He watches, both in wonder and concern, as his partner imbibes the hot drink, paying no attention to the steam rising from the mug.

They chat about mundane things, little things to pass time. _Have you talked to your brother lately?; I have, he’s as stubborn as ever. Have you talked to your boss about your schedule next week?; Not yet, he’s not been free. There’s an important meeting coming up, I’m sure my schedule is the last thing on his mind; Most likely, he’s not even thinking about it at all; Mm, I suppose you’re right; As always._ The talking dies down, to no one’s surprise. They’ve always been the type to enjoy comfortable silence.

There’s faint movement in the corner of his eye, and Estonia turns to see a tall man studying him curiously. He’s a good six feet tall, and his clothes hang loosely on him. There are bags under his eyes, and he looks worn out and ready to give up.

 _Russification,_ Estonia thinks sadly, a small frown tugging at his lips. It is not long before the strange man disappears, much to his relief.

The day goes on as any other day for a while. A little past noon, Norway is called in to see his boss in the Norwegian Embassy somewhere in Tallinn—Estonia doesn’t catch the details concerning why as his partner leaves. Norway arrives home hours later, and he walks calmly into the bedroom before shutting the door. Estonia does not miss the aura of irritation that surrounds the Norwegian, and stays away for almost an hour, allowing the other to defuse and relax a bit on his own terms. At half past eight, Norway walks back out and sits on the lounge chair in the living room. The tension is nearly gone.

“Everything okay?” Estonia asks, pushing up his glasses as he reads his newspaper.

“Yes, yes. My boss suddenly had mountains of paperwork that he needed done right then, lest he pop a blood vessel.” This earns a small laugh from the Estonian, who folds his newspaper and walks over to the living room. “He’s going to pop one day,” he says.

“Like a pimple,” is Norway’s reply.

* * *

 

Hours later, they are tangled amongst the sheets, a mess of sweat and other fluids, and heavy panting is the only sound to be heard by both parties. Estonia feels vulnerable. His mind wanders, and he finds himself searching for another presence in the room. Fortunately, there are none, and Estonia smiles softly.

“What are you smiling about?” Norway asks, his eyes drifting over to the smaller blonde as he wraps his arms around him once more. “Was it that good?” He teases slyly, his lips connecting with the younger man’s neck.

Estonia almost grins. “If only it were,” he teases back, only to be met with a chuckle and a pair of lips against his. He gives in almost instantly, offering himself wholly to the man before him. Their lips meet over and over, and somewhere along the way Estonia says that he loves Norway, who replies that he loves him as well. It continues like this until both men are exhausted and in each other’s arms. It’s late when one of them speaks again.

“Norra?”

“Hmm…?” Norway looks at him, regarding him sleepily. “Hva er det?” He’s tired, too tired for English, but Estonia has known him long enough to pick up a few phrases here and there.

“Isn’t it a cruel irony that I can see ghosts? I can never die, yet I am both cursed and blessed to see the dead walk before me.”

Norway takes a deep breath and sighs. “Ja, I suppose it is. But does it matter what it is?”

Estonia thinks for a moment. Then, “No, it does not.”

Norway nods and tightens his hold on him a bit. “Good, because I want to sleep, and it’s hard to do that when ya ask questions like this.”

He laughs a bit and closes his eyes, content with the world in that moment.

Estonia sees ghosts from his past. They linger in the corner of his eyes, always watching. People who cared for him, people he cared for in return. Even strangers—men, women, and children whom he had never seen while they lived—appear before him. But Norway cares for him now, and Estonia is glad to care for him for as long as he will accept it, ghosts and spirits be damned.


End file.
